Beloved


It hurts, doesn't it?
To see that which was beloved
slip away--
falling between the cracks of your fingers,
when they so desperately wish to hold on.
At first, there are no words--
no emotion, no anything inside
to describe the emptiness that now exists--
Nothingness fades to nothingness
and thoughts wander, to wonder--
What would it be like?
To fall between those cracks,
to chase after that which was beloved,
to dive into the depths and not have to return.

But no,
for even though the darkness tantalizes the senses
with false lures of hope,
that which was beloved is still beloved.
And it is still here,
even though it is not here.
There will come a day,
a day of the mending of broken hearts
until then, carry on.
That which is beloved
will carry on with you, too.

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